


i'm home

by allthelostsouls



Series: prompts [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthelostsouls/pseuds/allthelostsouls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just—He doesn’t know how to do these things. He doesn’t know how to talk about feelings and dreams. He doesn’t know how not to feel like a complete idiot when telling other people his nightmares and how much they scare the living shit out of him. But this is Ian asking, and it might take him a while but he’ll always tell him. He can’t lie to him. Not anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Or, Mickey has a nightmare and is freaking out a bit and Ian tells him a story that's supposed to be a joke and they laugh until the sun comes up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm home

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: "prompt: ian and mickey in bed and one of them says something really stupid but the other thinks it's adorable and funny and so they kinda just end up laughing their asses off at 2 am lol"
> 
> Anonymous said: "prompt: what if mickey has a nightmare and is all scared and ian comforts him??"
> 
> I tried my best, I really did. But I just stabbed myself in the hand trying to open a package and this fic is the reason I haven't finished my paper but who gives to shits about college, right? (*whispering* i do). Anyway, I might give the first prompt another try soon, just to see if I can come up with something else. I hope you both like it, anyway, and decide to send me more prompts. Thank you for all the prompts you've sent already. Yay!
> 
> And to whoever is reading this, thank you, you're fucking beautiful and be careful while handling knives. Stabbing yourself by accident is not a fun thing to do.

It’s almost two in morning and Mickey’s still wide awake.

He doesn’t want to say he’s waiting for Ian, but he is. He had this nightmare when he took a nap in the afternoon and now his heart starts racing every time he thinks something might have happened to him. It was a pretty fucking stupid nightmare but the thing is, he wasn’t scared the nightmare might actually come true, he was scared that Ian could get hurt when he’s not around to, you know, save him or whatever.

Mickey can finally swallow his heart back to place when he bedroom door opens and a sneaky Ian starts taking his clothes off. He turns the light on when hears Mickey sitting on the bed. His smile fades and his eyebrows almost touch in confusion the second he sees Mickey’s face.

“What is it?” he asks, sitting next to him. But Mickey doesn’t say anything. He just leans down to breathe against Ian’s neck for a second or two before he falls back into the bed, taking Ian with him. When they’re both under the covers and everything’s a mess of limbs and they don’t know which arm or leg is whose, Ian asks again, “What’s wrong?”

“Had a nightmare,” Mickey mumbles. “That’s all. Go to sleep.”

And Ian’s half way there but he’s just not going to fall asleep until he knows Mickey’s okay. He kisses his shoulder and exhales, “Tell me.”

And Mickey’s quiet after that. If it wasn’t for the wild beating of his heart and the way his fingers start twitching on his stomach, Ian would’ve thought he had fallen asleep. He waits. And Mickey waits until Ian’s breathing and his own heart have slowed down. And even then, he waits a bit more. It’s just—He doesn’t know how to do these things. He doesn’t know how to talk about feelings and dreams. He doesn’t know how not to feel like a complete idiot when telling other people his nightmares and how much they scare the living shit out of him. But this is Ian asking, and it might take him a while but he’ll always tell him. He can’t lie to him. Not anymore.

“The building fell down,” Mickey starts. “There was an explosion and then people started screaming. One second I was standing there watching it fall apart and then I was running in the hospital, trying to find you and I couldn’t. I couldn’t find you anywhere, Ian, but I knew something was wrong. I could feel it and no one was telling me anything,” Mickey’s breath shakes and then breaks when, “I was so scared.”

“Hey,” Ian whispers, supporting himself on his elbow and looking down at Mickey, his other hand reaching his face. It’s risky, he knows it. But he figures that in a moment like this, he’s allowed to touch him as softly as he wants to. “I’m okay. I’m home, Mickey. Everything’s fine.”

And Mickey wants the ground to spilt open so he could disappear but he does the only thing he can which is close his eyes so he doesn't have to look at Ian right now. But the words still bounce in his head. Ian’s in his arms and his nose is in his neck and he can feel his heartbeat—Ian’s _home_ and that should be enough for Mickey to calm down but somehow it isn’t. He still doesn’t know why, though.

“I know, I just—’S stupid, isn’t it?”

“No,” Ian argues immediately. “I have dreams like that, too. The first time I was so scared I started counting your breathing to calm myself down.”

“You what?”

“You were asleep and it didn’t seem fair to wake you up, you know? I didn’t want you to—I mean, it was a long time ago. It was the first time we shared my bed and I figured—I just—I guess I didn’t want to fuck it up or scare you away or something. So I just listened to you breathe. And I closed my eyes and started counting and suddenly it was all gone. When I woke up the next day I didn’t even remember when I fell asleep again but you were still there. So it didn’t really matter.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Ian,” Mickey whines, clearly not ready to hear Ian’s confessions and shit. He should’ve known better, though. He knows he can’t talk about his feeling without Ian trying to make him feel better by saying something toxically sweet.

“Sorry,” he laughs and to make Mickey relax a little, he says, “You fell asleep watching Dr. House, didn’t you?”

“The guy’s a dick but he’s a fucking genius, too,” Mickey replies and he’s not uncomfortable anymore. He’s actually staring up at Ian now and the moment is not forgotten, but kind of put on hold. “So you can’t really say shit to the guy. It’s awesome.”

“He’s not bad looking, either,” Ian suggests. “Did I ever tell you about that guy in the club months ago that looked like him?”  
Mickey shakes his head and he knows its bullshit. He knows its bullshit but he also knows Ian’s trying to make him feel better so he doesn’t give him a snarky comment or a dirty look or anything. He just stares at him with a smile creeping on his face and waits for him to say whatever it is he wants to say.

“I was ready to walk home and he said ‘The cops must be after you because it’s illegal to look that good’.”  
And Mickey’s laughing so hard his stomach starts hurting. Ian starts laughing, too, and he cleans Mickey’s eyes because tears have started to form there (the good kind if there's any) and he waits until he’s done laughing.

“Did he really say that?” Mickey asks breathless and he’s fighting another chuckle. 

“Yeah,” Ian replies. “He had this accent, right? And he sounded like that lady from that commercial from Popeye’s, you know which one I’m talking about it? The black lady that says ‘honey’ all the time?”

And Mickey’s laughing before Ian’s even done talking. He pictures the guy in his head talking like a old country black lady and he keeps laughing. Ian adds something every time Mickey controls himself and they keep laughing and laughing for what it feels like hours.

 

*

 

The darkness is fading and Ian knows it’s only a few minutes until the sun starts ascending and the room fills with sunlight. They didn’t sleep at all but that’s okay, they have all day to make up for it. Mickey’s eyes are closed again and his body isn’t shaking in laughter anymore and Ian’s drawing little circles on his chest, just to keep himself distracted—to think through what he’s about to say, actually.

“Hey, Mickey,” he whispers and all he gets in response is an eyebrow raising and a low _hmmm_ but it’s enough for Ian to know Mickey’s listening, so he says, “I know it was just a nightmare, but I’m not leaving. You’re my home and I’m not leaving you any time soon, okay? I promise.”

And the weight Mickey had felt in his chest since he woke up from that nightmare is suddenly gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [xcaffeinerush.tumblr.com](http://xcaffeinerush.tumblr.com) \- forgive me.
> 
> ALSO, you know when you listen to a song you haven't listened to in a while and then you can't stop listening to it again? That's me right now with [_Baby Come Home_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lM2d28lBM3k) by Scissor Sisters.... I feel another ixm fic coming.


End file.
